


Promise Fulfilled

by zoemargaret



Series: Manager Verse [2]
Category: Football RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-23
Updated: 2009-11-23
Packaged: 2017-10-03 15:39:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoemargaret/pseuds/zoemargaret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Direct continuation of Voyeur. Bojan goes after Pep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promise Fulfilled

_**Fic: Promise Fulfilled**_  
  
OK, I think I need a Pep/Bojan icon. *goes to search through Football file* In the meantime, have a fic!

Title: Promise Fulfilled  
Rating: NC-17  
Pairing: Pep Guardiola/Bojan Krkić  
Length: 2100 words  
Summary: Direct continuation of my fic [Voyeur](http://community.livejournal.com/footballslash/2352688.html). Bojan goes looking for Pep.   
A/N: Thank you to everyone who replied to Voyeur, it's really you guys that inspired me to finish this. And, you know, video of Pep and Bojan at the Barca party. Thanks as always to

[](http://sophiamoon.livejournal.com/profile)[**sophiamoon**](http://sophiamoon.livejournal.com/) and [](http://rainydaypsycho.livejournal.com/profile)[**rainydaypsycho**](http://rainydaypsycho.livejournal.com/) for encouragement.  
[](http://sophiamoon.livejournal.com/)

 

  

 

Bojan looked at the mirror. He looks like he's just been fucked. And it was good. But, how would it feel with a real cock, not just a plastic facsimile?

He dresses and toes on his flip-flops. He grabs his bag (really wouldn't want the cleaning staff going through that) and makes his way towards Pep's office. The entire team knows that Pep hangs out there after every match, analyzing every move, every pass. Fortunately he doesn't meet anyone and he's able to knock on Pep's door right away. No response. He knocks again.

 

"Pep?" he calls through the door. "Coach?" No reply. If anyone else were here, he wouldn't do it. Thirty minutes earlier he wouldn't have done it.

He opens the door. "Pep?"

Pep stares resignedly at him from behind his desk. "Bojan," he acknowledges. "You know, most people would take the shut door as a hint."

Bojan hopes he's not too obviously relieved; he was half expecting Pep to be either screaming or sneering at this point. But he's not, so. Kiki, go for it. He turns to shut the door and, blush staining his cheeks, locks it. When he turns back, Pep's _looking_ at him just like he did before he left, and any second thoughts Bojan have vanish. He leans back against the door and tries on a hesitant smile. "Well," he says breathlessly, "Most people haven't just been fucked by you in the changing rooms." He bites his lip, suddenly unsure. "I don't think."

Pep snorts and he pushes back from his desk "Bojan," he starts, then abruptly rises. He runs a hand over his head before covering his face. "God," he groans through his fingers. Pulling his hand down, he smiles sardonically at Bojan. "No, Bojan," he says patiently, calmly, "I don't _often_ fuck my players in the changing rooms." He starts to slowly walk toward Bojan, one hand loosening his tie. When he's only a foot away he stops and pulls off the tie. He drops it on the ground like a challenge and Bojan takes a hesitant step forward. Pep smiles down at him, wickedness flashing in his eyes. "Only the special ones."

Bojan's mouth drops open even as his eyes narrow. "Who?" he demands, ire rising at the thought of Pep touching anyone else before him. He glares up at the other man, wanting answers. If it was Leo, he was going to fucking k- His eyes narrow even further. "You're smiling,"

Pep smiles even wider and jerks his head down in acknowledgment. "Son of a _bitch_," Bojan curses. He reaches up pulls Pep into a hard kiss.

Irritation, relief, anxiety, all melt away at the touch of Pep's lips against his. The other man's hands come up quickly to frame his face and take control of the kiss. He eases it into something sweet and soft, lips moving gently. Bojan tilts his head back and relaxes into him, body quickly responding to Pep's hardness. Pep's hands gently card through his hair and then _pull_. Bojan gasps at the sudden pain and Pep thrusts his tongue into his mouth. At the same time, he pushes Bojan back hard against the wall, leg between his thighs, intent on ravishing him in every single way. Bojan moans in delight and wraps his arms around Pep's neck, hitching himself closer. Pep makes a pleased sound into his mouth and cups his hands around Bojan's ass, supporting him. His fingers dig in and Bojan whimpers, still sensitive from before.

Pep pulls away. Bojan whines and tries to pull him back, but Pep resists. Looks at Bojan, eyes dilated, cheeks flushed. "Tell me to stop now or I won't," he warns, voice a low growl Bojan's never heard before. Bojan smiles, delighted and smug and so hot. He's the one making Pep Guardiola growl, making his eyes burn with lust. He shakes his head, but Pep's not satisfied. "Kiki, I mean it," the other man insists, the childish endearment coming naturally even as his eyes are drawn to Bojan's still wet lips. "Tell me."

Bojan ducks his chin and looks up through his lashes. He doesn't miss Pep's inhalation and he smiles to himself. "I want it, _Coach_," he murmurs, the breathy word a payment for his childhood nickname. "I want you to fuck me against the door, on your desk, on the floor." Fuck but he can feel Pep's cock jerk against his ass at the words and squirms, wanting more. "Please," as pleading as he knows how. "Please fuck me."

He hits the wall hard, the pain only making him arch even further into Pep's hold, desperate. Pep's fucking his mouth now, tongue searching out every taste, leaving nothing untouched. His hands pull Bojan closer, fingers digging in. Bojan whimpers in delighted arousal and Pep suddenly lets him down. "What-" he starts but Pep interrupts him.

"Lube," he orders tersely as he undoes his shirt and pushes down his pants. He nods at Bojan's body. "Strip."

Bojan blushes even as he tears off his shirt and steps out of his track pants. He's not wearing underwear, but that's not what makes him blush. "I don't need it," he confesses, all shamed lust. "I'm still wet from before."

"_Fuck_," Pep grits out, and Bojan's against the wall again. The edges of Pep's white shirt brush tantalizingly against his heated skin and he manages to grab fabric.

"Off," he whines breathlessly. "I want you naked."

Pep chuckles darkly. "Too bad. I'm not putting you down till I make you scream." Bojan moans in delight and arches into him, cock rubbing against Pep's hard stomach. Pep cups his ass and lifts him higher. "Legs around my waist, sweetheart."

Bojan spares a thought to bless (for once) his short stature and hitches his legs around Pep's hips. The new position allows their cocks to brush together and both men hiss. Bojan throws his head back and tries to grind down, desperate for more, but Pep has a firm hold on his hips. "Pull yourself up," he orders breathlessly and Bojan does, arms and back straining. Pep's hands slide around his his ass to open him up and he pushes the head of his cock just inside. "Sure?" he asks one more time. In reply, Bojan lets himself drop.

Fuck. Bojan's played with toys, but he's still technically a virgin. And Pep is wider than any of his toys. He chokes off a groan at the hot tight burn as gravity pulls him onto Pep's cock on one long delicious slide. It's so fucking good, just like this, and he wants to hold onto this moment forever. But then Pep starts to move and he changes his mind. He wants this to last forever, this thrusting that sends fire up his spine, curling into his belly. Pep's body is hard and solid against his and it's nothing like fucking a girl, nothing. He's being fucked raw and he loves it.

Pep shifts his grip and the next thrust hammers Bojan's prostrate. He mewls and pushes down, desperate for more. Pep bares his teeth, too predatory to be a smile, and begins to _drive_ into him. Each stroke hits him just right and Bojan's going out of his mind with pleasure. He's completely at Pep's mercy, clutching at his shoulders his neck as he's fucked open. His cock is grinding against Pep's stomach, the coarse hair and hard muscles providing delicious friction. Pep's hips clench and thrust beneath his thighs and he digs his heels into Pep's ass. Bojan curves over to bite at Pep's neck but gets distracted. He smells so good, warm and musky and sweaty and Bojan forgets anything else and just inhales _Pep_.

And Pep's holding him above his cock, head just barely inside. Bojan squirms as best he can, trying to push down. He pouts at him, Pep's neck and face showing the strain of holding him up. "Pep!" he pleads. Pep keeps him still for another moment, and then yanks him down as he thrusts up hard. Bojan _yowls. _He hastily lets go of Pep's neck with one arm and grabs his cock. The resulting shift and extra friction is too much and Bojan arches back, teetering on the edge. Pep's teeth sink into his neck and he's coming, white waves of sheer fucking pleasure racing through his entire body. As he twitches and shakes he foggily realizes that Pep has stopped moving and pinned him to the wall. But he can't focus because Pep's cock is pressed against his prostrate, drawing out and intensifying his orgasm.

Bojan slumps bonelessly against the wall. Fuck. He feels open and raw and used and completely fucking alive. After a moment to recover, he opens his eyes. Pep is holding him up, lower lip clenched between his teeth. Satiated, Bojan raises lazy fingers to comb through Pep's short hair. He smiles lazily. "Mmm."

Pep chokes out a groan. "Kiki..." He shifts his grip again and Bojan realizes that he's still in him, still hard.

"Pep?" he asks, pouting. "Didn't you..." he trails off, uncertain how to ask. Curiously he squeezes down. Pep groans deep in his chest and starts to fuck him again. And, Bojan realizes, this is truly Pep _fucking_ him. Vicious sharp thrusts no longer concerned with Bojan's pleasure, pounding into him. He pushes Bojan harder against the wall, his thrusting body rubbing against his spent cock. Bojan's too exhausted and too relaxed to stop from moaning with every stroke. He hears his cries and cringes, but he can't stop. Everything feels too intense, too much. "Pep," he moans, quivering. He pushes his head in close and nibbles at the other man's tense neck, tongue slipping out in little kittenish licks. "Please, please," he whispers into his ear.

Pep's movements become more frenzied and he gives little grunts with each thrust. Bojan runs his hands through his hair, over his neck, his back. Continues to whisper into his ears, endearments and pleas, anything that comes to mind. Pep's shoving into him now, all finesse lost, and Bojan makes one last effort. He _squeezes_ around Pep's cock and sinks his teeth in Pep's earlobe. "I can't take anymore," he asks, voice high and trembling. "Please come for me." Pep gasps and with one last thrust, he comes. Bojan can _feel_ him come, wet warmth coating his insides, soft shudders and jerks rubbing him just right. His cock is spent, but his body twitches with pleasure anyway.

Pep's rasping for air. Between the two of them they get Bojan off his cock and he ends up slumped against the wall, legs trembling. He braces himself against Pep for support and smiles when the other man wraps his arms around him. He snuggles in with a happy murmur, feeling warm and content in Pep's arms. He feels Pep kiss his head and presses closer to raises his head for a kiss.

Pep stares down at him, eyes gentle and warm. "You look just like a kitten," he remarks before leaning down and kissing him. He's soft and luxurious and lovely and Bojan can't help another happy murmur.

However. "I'm not a kitten!" he complains when Pep draws back. Pep smiles and Bojan pouts, gives his neck a vengeful nibble. "I'm not," he mumbles against sweaty skin.

He can feel Pep's chuckle against his lips. Intrigued, he presses down harder. Pep's voice vibrates even more. "A very convincing argument," he mocks.

"Hmph." Bojan lifts his head, scathing retort on his lips. Pep's looking at him, entire face warm and happy and relaxed, and Bojan stops, words lost. He stares into Pep's eyes, but he has to stop and close his eyes at the emotion he sees there. He ducks his head, overwhelmed.

"Come on," Pep tells him. "Get dressed and I'll take you home."

And he does.

 


End file.
